The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (35 page)

Try as he might, however, he could not reverse the woman’s momentum. He strained and resisted valiantly, almost to the point of breaking his arm.

The back of his right hand slammed to the table with a thud, drawing hoots and cheers, as well as cries of outrage from the crowd. Coins exchanged hands and some argued with others.

The red-bearded man loosened the sash and stepped away. Without warning though, the humiliated loser drew his hand back in an attempt to strike Saeunn. But, a stubby-fingered hand grabbed his wrist, stopping it before it could be launched.

“No ye don’t!” said Melin’s eldest boy.

Saeunn reared back and head-butted the man square in the face, knocking him unconscious and further bloodying his forehead.

Jarin looked to Herum and couldn’t help but smirk. “I ain’t about to hit no girl…besides, I be thinkin’ it won’t do much good!” The rest of the crowd that heard the comment roared with laughter. Herum laughed hard, holding his belly. “Aye!” he yelled in agreement.

“Get that trash outta me bar!” Melin yelled over the crowd to his sons as they each grabbed an arm and threw the bloodied ruffian into the streets. “No one tries to hit a woman in me bar!”

Saeunn turned and gazed upon the other barbarians, the remaining tribe-members of the Chansuk people, then looked skyward as if searching for an answer. She saw her mother, who smiled at her now and simply pointed at the door.

“Go, Saeunn,” Huuna said, “before you get us kicked out of here!” The rest of the women laughed and guzzled more ale and wine, truly enjoying this break from their recent woes. Saeunn watched her mother smile at her before turning her attention back to her present company.

Saeunn headed out of the bar and back to the shelter that Oakhaven’s officials had granted the survivors of Chansuk.

Unbeknownst to Saeunn, a red-headed woman peeked out of the bar and watched her leave.

Rose observed the events as they unfolded regarding the tattooed woman whom she’d read the document to, and wondered what she should do in light of this new situation. The barbarian woman conveyed exhilaration within her jade eyes that Rose hadn’t experienced in a decade. She obviously yearned for danger and the thrill of battle with burning anticipation. This was evident in the fight and the arm-wrestling contest she had just witnessed.

Rose also missed the thrill of a real fight, she suddenly realized. This new understanding terrified her as well as amazed her. She was somewhat surprised that she had any feelings at all when it came to seeking such thrills as mortal combat. She had not done any serious fighting in years.

When she had been learning to develop her skills many years ago, she soon recognized the pure excitement it gave her. She reflected on those many nights where she did not know if she would even survive. She remembered the thrill of picking pockets and the constant avoidance of The Watch in her younger days. She had been getting complacent now, picking from the fat purses of the mindless merchants that posed little or no challenge to her vast skill set. Her life lacked excitement, she realized. She aimed to rectify that immediately.

Yes
, she thought,
I will apply for this venture!

Rose proceeded out of the bar, tipping Melin as she passed, and headed outside to the streets of Oakhaven. It appeared to most as if she had a bit too many glasses of wine, though she was far from drunk, unbeknownst to the four men that had surveyed her earlier.

Two brothers from out of town—Otis and Olaf—were visiting the Tall Tale Tavern this eve along with two former mercenaries from Veldennia. They had served with these men for several years prior in some less-than-ethical operations. The brothers were ex-sentries and had been training as pickpockets now to provide their income. They were becoming quite good at it.  Sometimes they attempted their thievery with stealth, sometimes with brute force. The brothers had mentioned their success to the two mercenaries, Blaine and Morton, who were now willing to put their skills to the test too.

The brothers and their two associates took notice of one particular redhead. She had bought herself some very expensive wine, not to mention that Otis got a peek at her teeming coin pouch to boot. She had been using not only copper coins, but many silvers too.

Otis had approached her earlier. He meant to get to know her and perhaps persuade her to bed him this evening, in which case he could rob her in the night. They had tried this tactic with much success in many other cities as Otis was not only a ruggedly handsome man, with blonde hair and blue eyes, but was also a smooth talker. He had introduced himself, but his potential victim seemed uninterested at best in his advances, and had simply walked away from him at first. His second advance met with a somewhat terse, stronger rejection, which he wisely obeyed, not wanting to stir up any unnecessary attention.

The two mercenaries were part of the plan, too. The bald man named Blaine, who bore a scar on his left cheek, was dark of both hair and eyes, and was renowned within mercenary circles as being a violent man with a short temper. His associate, Morton, was a heavy-set man, clean shaven, displaying a pair of beady green eyes. Morton was more cowardly than brave, but willing to take some risks to score coin. The group had spent much of their time in the bar apart to suggest they did not know each other.

“Blaine, you and Morton start out ahead of us, keep an eye out and one of us will try to flush her down an alleyway like we discussed,” Otis whispered to the group as he stood with his back to the two mercenaries.

Morton and Blaine left the bar as instructed and waited across the road, out of sight. There was really only one direction to go when exiting the bar and that was to the south. This led back toward the center of the city on the main walkway where the large fo
untain sat. From there, one could go into any of the districts. There were some side streets and alleyways, but most did not use them. That fact made it easier for the group to plan a strategy.

“There she goes, Olaf,” whispered Otis to his brother. Olaf had a dark, scruffy beard on his face with shaggy hair to match. He carried with him a small club and a dagger, both strapped to a belt under his loose-fitting shirt and jacket.

Otis nodded his head and anxiously adjusted the hilt of his dagger, which was concealed in his boot, adjusting the fit.

They exited the bar, pacing themselves so as not to appear to be leaving at the same time. Blaine and Morton watched Rose exit and found a good place to set their trap. Olaf followed her initially down the main avenue and, seconds later, Otis appeared and caught sight of his brother’s trail.

Morton, being the more pathetic of the two mercenaries, made the perfect stooge. He sat on one knee in the alley as the woman was about to pass by, exactly as they had planned.

“Don’t screw it up, Morton!” Blaine whispered a caution, his dagger planted firmly against Morton’s neck. “Or I might have to make a ‘
mistake’
and bleed you right here.”

“Hel—,” Morton started to scream, but the word got caught in his throat as he was becoming increasingly anxious about the situation. Blaine’s blade pressed more firmly against his throat, encouraging Morton further. 

”Help!” Morton managed to cry out as his lips went dry with anticipation of the fight. He certainly sold the pathetic victim role, which was the reason Blaine kept the man around in the first place. Both men were armed with simple daggers, in conjunction with a set of brass knuckles that they wore on their opposite hand. They waited as their victim approached.

Rose wondered if they thought her a fool.

She had seen an easy mark mugged in an alleyway many times, for she had done it herself in her youth. The local guard was out of sight and out of earshot—a perfect place for an ambush!

 
How excited they must be to entertain such easy prey
, Rose thought sarcastically. Then she thought to play along for a bit too, in the hopes of teaching them a much-needed lesson.

This was
her
town, after all.

Excitement at the upcoming battle made her hands a bit moist and she felt that heart begin to race in her chest. She could not recall the last time she felt the adrenaline rush. This was what she missed, she admitted.

At the bottom of the alley, there was a chubby fellow on one knee and a bald man obviously simulating the act of menacing him with a dagger. She slowly walked toward them, wiping her palms on her pants to dry them

“Leave him be,” she called out to the bald man, following suit with the game they were playing. “I’m sure he doesn’t want any trouble.”

“But you do…,” remarked the bald man as he shoved the chubby one to the ground and headed straight at Rose. Suddenly, she sensed someone approaching from behind and felt that she might actually be in real danger. Just in time, she managed to lean forward as she felt a partial rap on the back of the head from something blunt.  Her movement propelled her toward the bald man who attempted to thrust his blade into her heart.

Time seemed to slow down for her as she forced her mind to concentrate—and then she simply disappeared, leaving behind a rather confused attacker who stopped his momentum before striking the other.

She reappeared at the other end of the alleyway, stepping out of the shadow realm and back into the physical plane scholars named Krotto. She was angry with herself now for letting the would-be assassin get the drop on her. That ire sobered her up quickly. She felt herself go into a state of calm as her confidence came back and she steadied her breathing.

She recognized the blonde man who was now at the near end of the alley as the man who had attempted to buy her drinks earlier. He had not seen her reappear and she maneuvered herself quietly behind him.

This was quite the trap
, she thought, seeing the plan clearly that had unfolded before her. She withdrew her prized daggers,
Zaedra
and
Avorna,
a set of magical, jagged and very long daggers. Each measured approximately from the length of Rose’s elbow to the tip of her extended middle finger. They could almost considered swords as far as blades were concerned.

Rose saw the dark-haired man who had accompanied the blonde in the bar come into view now. He stood with the bald man and the fat one at the far end, many paces away, where she had first entered the alley. They were looking around confused after she disappeared, not understanding what happened yet. 

Perfect,
she thought as she positioned herself behind the blonde one. She recalled just then that he’d introduced himself to her as Otis. She gripped her daggers tightly, becoming one with them and allowing her instincts to take over. Rose closed the gap between them fairly quickly and very quietly.

 “I’m warning you—leave now,” Rose whispered from the shadows to him. He whipped his head around, searching the darkness to discern the origin of the voice. It was dark and the shadows were plentiful on the alley walls and cobblestones. Things were about to go from bad to worse for her attackers.

“I’m not going anywhere, wench!” Otis replied evenly to the darkness. “Why don’t you just come out and get this over with?”

“Last chance,” called Rose to the group of would-be muggers.

“I’m not so much worried about me,” Otis threatened. “I don’t run from women.”

Rose swallowed hard, understanding that they would not leave. She also understood that she could simply walk through the shadows and they would never be able to follow her. She could escape right now and they would be none the wiser.

Perhaps it was the anticipation of a fight that she’d missed, or a personal test she must overcome. Maybe it was because they were not in league with the Thieves’ Guild, who at least had a code of ethics. Or maybe it was because she believed that they would also be doing this to countless others if left unchecked.

Something compelled her to stay.

Once more she let herself fall into that predatory state that allowed her to survive the horrors of her youth…the survival mode that kept her alive on the streets in her adolescence.

Yes
, she thought as she approached her enemy. It was all coming back to her.

 “You were warned—
remember
that,” Rose stated angrily as she emerged from a shadow that engulfed her only a second ago. Otis’s surprise was evident and his blue eyes filled with dread as he felt the blades. He weakly moaned in pain as he felt the sharp edge of a pair of daggers slash across his throat. The lifeblood drained from his body quickly and he slumped to the ground in a lifeless heap.

The three men all spun as they heard the body of their now-fallen companion hit the cobblestones. One of them gasped in horror at seeing the lifeless body.

“Bah! I’ll kill you for what you did! That was my brother!” the scruffy one claimed as he shook with rage, wiping sweat from his unshaven, dirty face.

“That’s it,” Rose egged them on from the far end of the alley. “Come and get it.”

The shaggy haired one with the beard withdrew his dagger and club, one in either hand, and charged at her. The other two followed, although the chubby one was several paces behind. Rose took note of this fact.

She traversed the shadow realm again and stepped out just to the right of the plump one’s heavy frame. With unusual speed and agility for one his size, the mercenary saw her and scored a quick jab with the brass knuckles on his right fist, grazing her, but also hitting her hard enough to draw blood.

I underestimated this one,
Rose chastised herself silently, recovering from the blow and concentrating once more through the pain.

He thrust his dagger and stabbed at where she had been only a heartbeat ago to find that she had vanished again. Appearing behind him, she put him between herself and the other two assailants. She reached her left hand around and grabbed the man’s chin, pulling it to her left while plunging the dagger in her right hand through the base of his throat, killing him instantly. She winced at the ferocity of her own attack. She was well-versed in the art of killing, but took no pleasure in it.

“Leave now or suffer the same fate,” Rose cautioned the remaining two, as she stepped once more into the shadow plane, disappearing from sight.

Rose reappeared and struck the back of the shaggy one’s thigh with a thrust of her dagger, causing him to stumble forward in pain, clutching his hamstring. The bald one, who was now behind Rose, kicked out solidly, connecting with the small of her back. Her head jerked back violently from the force of the blow and the kick knocked the wind out of her. She clutched her stomach and throat and needed time to recover.